


Not a Prince

by Syrum



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dragons, Fluff, M/M, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has been whisked away to parts unknown by blood mages, and put under an evil spell.  It's up to Dorian to save him...with some help.</p><p>Also, there's a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Prince

Dorian hated dragons. He really, _really_ hated dragons. Honestly, how could Bull be enjoying this as much as he was? Swinging that massive axe around and bellowing as he danced around the great winged beast. The mage huffed to himself and threw another fireball - because really, an ice dragon? How was something like that even supposed to exist? Still, the fire seemed to work well, particularly when it decided Bull was too easy a target and went charging after _him_ instead, blasted thing! A wall of fire stopped it in it’s tracks, the beast roaring and turning to snap at Cole who got just that bit too close to the beast’s jaws for his liking.

Where _was_ bull, anyway? Ah, there, on the floor. Wonderful, the dumb ox had managed to get himself hurt, and now it was up to the mage to get him back on his feet again. Dodging around the dragon’s lashing tail, he raised his arm, spell at the ready, only to be blown backwards by a sudden and unexpected flap of the beast’s wings.

“Kaffas! Get UP, Bull!” Dorian all but shouted across the noise of the dragon’s roar, their dear Inquisitor clearly doing something it didn’t like. He scrambled to his feet, priming the spell on his way up, green light enveloping the Bull for a moment while the mage scrambled away to safety, another volley of fire spells impacting with the dragon’s hindquarters as he raced off to a safe distance. Bull was up, looking somewhat dazed for a moment, before he raced back into battle with a joyous cry. The distant sound of dragon bone breaking was music to Dorian’s ears.

“You okay?” Bull had sidled up to the mage after the battle was over, and after the sizeable man had stood triumphantly on the beast’s severed head, striking his best dragon-slaying pose. Dorian just huffed, trying in vain to wipe the dragon blood off his collar as they trekked forward into the tower the beast had been guarding.

“Just peachy.” The mage finally replied, giving up on what was proving to be an impossible task. “I _hate_ dragons, you _know_ I hate dragons. We could have gone around but no, you just _had_ to antagonise the thing, didn’t you?”

“It’s okay, Dorian. Next time we’re up against a dragon, I’ll make sure to leave you at home.” The Inquisitor laughed from up ahead, Bull chuckling to the left of the scowling mage, earning an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. Dorian decided that he also hated men with large swords and the apparent infestation of blood mages for making him travel all the way out to what felt like the far side of Thedas.

The tower seemed to be made up of little more that one, impossibly long staircase. They climbed for what felt like an eternity, all bar Cole huffing and panting by the time they reached the top, finding a well-lit round room as they finally traipsed through the single door at the top. The room itself was well decorated, possibly the most tasteful display of design that Dorian had seen since their last brief trip to Orlais. Nay, since Tevinter, even! Drapes emblazoned with dragons decorated empty wall space, large and intricately carved desks and chests of drawers seemed to take up very little space at all in the expanse of the room, and each clearly made to fit the space as their backs curved against the rounded walls, while a deep, plush carpet had been laid underfoot. To the far end of the room, an enormous four poster bed stood, silk draperies concealing whoever lay within quite effectively.

“Looks like we found him.” The Inquisitor stated, poking at the sleeping form of the Inquisition’s commander upon the bed, before stepping back, puzzled.

“He’s sleeping.” Added Cole, lifting up Cullen’s arm and letting it drop back down, getting no response. “I can’t feel anything from him, like a dog or a stone, sleeping forever not in the fade, not anywhere.”

“How can you liken a stone to a dog?” Dorian asked, stepping around the other side of the large bed as the others continued their rather mild assault on the Commander. “The two aren’t even remotely similar. Surely they can’t feel the same?”

“It depends if they are awake or not.” The spirit replied, removing one of Cullen’s boots. Dorian stopped trying to comprehend the boy after that.

“Say, didn’t Varric have a story like this?” Bull piped up, seemingly ignoring the other two, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, about a sleeping princess, guarded by a dragon.” He snapped his fingers then, looking triumphantly at the Inquisitor, who was clearly on the same wavelength as Bull and clearly _not_ on the same as Dorian, who just stared at the pair incredulously.

“Yes! And only the kiss of a handsome prince could break the spell.” The pair shared a look then, before turning as one to regard the puzzled mage.

“You have to kiss him.” The Inquisitor crossed his arms, his entirely deadpan tone making the hairs at the back of Dorian’s neck stand on end.

“I’m not a damned prince!” Dorian protested, looking down at Cullen’s sleeping form.

“Yeah, well, you’re the closest thing we’ve got right now, so pucker up and kiss the princess.” Bull guffawed, the Inquisitor giving him a smack on the arm for calling the commander of the Inquisition’s armies a ‘princess’, though he couldn’t hide the grin on his face either.

“He is going to kill me for this.” The mage groaned, kneeling on the bed over the sleeping man, leaning in to gently brush his lips against the Commander’s own, before pulling back quickly in case the man were to wake and catch him in the act. “You see? It didn’t work.” Dorian pointed to the still-prone form on the sheets, looking every bit the tortured mage.

“No, you need to do it properly.” Bull huffed, shaking his head.

“With feeling, or you’ll never break the spell.” The Inquisitor agreed, crossing his arms across his chest, the pair staring a little too intently at their companions on the bed.

“Fine, fine. But if he wakes up and tries to kill me, I am going to set fire to the both of you.” Swallowing down the nervousness in his throat, licking suddenly dry lips, Dorian leant in once more, the kiss starting as a gentle touch of lips before he tilted his head slightly, angling himself so he could mesh their mouths together. 

He had thought, for a moment, that it hadn’t worked and that all this ridiculousness was for naught, until the prone body below him let out a soft sigh and he felt the movement of lips against his own, a tongue probing, parting, and then happily claiming the mage’s mouth as he felt the itch of stubble against his chin. Cullen, clearly awake by this point, wrapped his arms around Dorian, pulling him down into the kiss and moaning softly, shifting until their bodies were pressed flush together. One hand moved to rest at the back of his head, while the other slid down his back to cup at his ass, squeezing non-too-gently and making the mage gasp.

They parted, finally, both gasping for air, Cullen staring up at Dorian with hooded eyes, before switching their positions, rolling until he had the mage pinned beneath him, one thigh between Dorian’s own and pressed against the rapidly growing heat contained there. The Commander nudged his way past the too-high collar, until he was able to bite and lick at Dorian’s neck, making the smaller man gasp at the sensation. Opening his eyes to gaze down at the man, who had one hand on Dorian’s hip while the other pinned his right arm above his head, the mage was suddenly aware of three - well, two and a half - pairs of eyes watching them intently.

“Vishante kaffas! Out!” His voice unusually high-pitched, Dorian pointed almost violently to the door, the Inquisitor at least having the decency to look sheepish, while Bull was openly gawking and Cole simply looked on curiously. After a pause that was entirely too drawn out, the trio trailed out of the room, looking somewhat disappointed in losing their show.

“They’re gone?” Cullen finally murmured against his throat once the door clicked shut, his mouth having stopped moving in those murderously teasing circles and his skin giving off rather more heat than it had been previously.

“Thankfully.” The mage replied, wrapping his free arm loosely around the ex-Templar’s waist out of reflex. “Though, if this is your way of coming out about us, I can think of better ways to do it.” He felt Cullen relax against him then, the taller man laughing softly.

“Perhaps. This was quite effective, though, even if it did involve demons and blood mages.” He was smiling, and although Dorian could not see it, he could feel the curl of lips against his neck.

“And a dragon.” Dorian added, frowning slightly, wondering if Bull was likely to want to collect souvenirs before they left.

“There was a dragon?” Cullen looked up then, concerned for a moment, checking the mage over for any injuries that he might need to know about, before settling down again.

“I _really_ hate dragons.” Dorian sulked.


End file.
